Jones, The Autobots, and the World's Strangest Mid-Life Crisis
by Arrancon
Summary: A 51 year old man, down on his luck and searching for a purpose in life, takes the job as a night guard at a used car lot. What follows is a story of self-discovery, new friends, hoodlum Decepticons, and a bipolar Headmaster in a blend of action, crude humor, and heart. AU Movieverse. Rated T for language, suggestive humor, and violence.
1. Chapter 1

Cybertron. A war-torn world, left to die after countless centuries of strife and chaos.

Two sides collided over its control: the Autobots, protectors of life and justice, and the Decepticons, a ruthless faction of killers, former criminals, and those disgruntled by the government. The robotic life forms were led by Optimus Prime and Megatron respectively, two of the greatest warriors in the known galaxy. Their century-long conflict destroyed the planet they called home, and saw thousands of Cybertronians die in vain.

As their conflict raged on, one thing was clear: the Decepticons were winning. It was only a matter of time before Megatron would claim his throne as tyrant of the decayed world. In a surprising decision, Optimus Prime let him have it. With barely any resources remaining, and their enemies now attempting to purge them from Cybertron, the Autobots fled their home in search of a new one, leaving Megatron with his dead kingdom so they could rebuild society someplace else.

Unfortunately, surrender was not enough to please the tyrant Decepticon. Upon hearing of his enemies departure, Megatron sent out hunting parties to exterminate the Autobots on other worlds, hoping one would find his mortal enemy Prime and bring him back for a personal execution.

The Autobots, aware of this attempted genocide, landed on planets devoid of sentient life, in hopes that no other races would be brought into their seemingly endless conflict.

For a group of five Autobots, however, this would not be the case. Their ship, damaged in a skirmish with their Decepticon hunters, went off course and landed on a lush green and blue planet in the Milky Way galaxy.

This twist of fate would go on to change the life of one particular denizen of this planet Earth forever.

* * *

"So… Jones Alexander, right?"

For someone in the small forest town of Keepsbare, Washington to not recognize a fellow resident meant either one of two things: either they were new to town, or they were a complete idiot. Jones Alexander could tell right away that the manager of this used car lot was probably a combination of both. The young shit's bright green hair, nasal piercing, and black lipstick pushed him a bit more towards the latter category, but then again Jones was 51 years old. Maybe this is what the kids considered fashion nowadays. It was dumb as shit, regardless. How did this guy even get hired for this kind of job?

"Uh, yes, that would be right," Jones replied, feeling it better to keep his criticisms private, "But you can just call me Jones, sir."

The manager gave him a look. A nasty one. The kind someone gives you if you accidentally curse in front of an infant.

"Is… something wrong?"

"I am not a sir."

Jones looked over the person again. "Uh… My apologies, _ma'am?"_

"No, no, no... I identify as _pangender."_

Oh, hell, Jones thought. Not one of these people. "I beg your pardon?"

"Pangender means I identify as all genders. You must respect my identity, or I will be forced to ask you to leave."

"How was I supposed to know you identified as… whatever you just said?"

The manager pointed at the charm hanging from his neck. "Do you not recognize this? This symbol represents my gender identity. I feel that you, along with most people should know…"

Jones saw the manager's mouth moving, but the words didn't reach his ears. This must be one of those indoctrinated college millennials he heard about on the news. God damn these crazy kids anymore. Eventually, the pan-whatever stopped his yammering, and Jones snapped back to the interview.

"Sorry, Jones. Just got a little triggered there, that's all. Now that you have been informed, I think we can continue."

Jones would have walked right then and there if he wasn't so desperate for a job. At least the night guard position he was aiming for meant he wouldn't be dealing with this guy."Uh, yeah… Anyways, where would you like to start?"

"Previous job?"

"Grocery store clerk. Car washer. Garbage man."

"Reasons for leaving or quitting?"

"Store closed down, out of business, and smelled horrible. Not in that particular order, mind you."

"What makes you qualified for this job, then?"

"I suppose if I can do anything required of my old three jobs, I can sure as hell walk around the dealership at night with a flashlight to scare people away."

"How many days a week can you work?"

"There's seven of those, right?"

"…When can you start?"

* * *

And with that, Jones Alexander secured his fourth job in two years. He walked out through the dealership lot to his own car parked on the curb. It was a beaten down pickup truck, the front ready to fall off from the accumulating rust and holes. Poor middle aged man like himself couldn't afford a replacement, not even a junker from his new job's selection. The little pine forest town he called home his whole life had only two classes: poor and dirt poor. Jones sat in between those two. Not completely broke, but no money for luxury. All he had for entertainment was an old boxy computer straight out of the 90's, siphoning his internet connection from a completely senile old lady down the street. He felt bad about that, sure, but literally everyone else in town did it too. What was one more leech going to harm?

Other than that community secret, Keepsbare was a peaceful – but completely uneventful – place to live. No gossip, no conspiracies, no trouble aside from the random bear walking into town. It was the most mundane place in all of Washington State, and it matched Jones well. He was just another Average Joe. Not too tall, not too short. Bit of a beer belly. Trucker cap, slightly balding, 5'o clock shadow. Nobody special. Such a plain existence really dug into Jones's soul sometimes.

Jones reached his truck, opening the door and tossing his new uniform inside onto the passenger seat. He'd have to take it to the laundromat in town before his first shift tonight; the outfit reeked of gasoline. As he sat up before the wheel, he saw a vehicle being towed up onto the lot. It was an old Volkswagen van straight out of the 60's, just as beaten up as his own ride with shades of baby blue underneath the layers of grime and rust. He could see strings of Christmas lights through the windows, hanging tackily from the inner roof. For a moment, he swore he saw them flicker on and off.

Shrugging it off as a trick of the eye, he backed his truck out, his eyes still glued to the strangely fascinating vehicle in his rear-view mirror. The last detail he remembered of it was a funny-looking logo, triangular in shape, printed above the back license plate before he drove off on his way home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to those following so far! Things will pick up pretty quickly now. Chapters will be relatively short so I can try and update once a week between school work.**

* * *

Jones counted three empty cans of beer at his feet, with that fourth (or was it fifth?) one he had just tossed somewhere on the other side of his trailer. Though blurry, he could still read the time on his clock. 11:30. With only half an hour till his shift, he figured it would be safer to walk under the influence than drive. He didn't need to hit another lamp post like he did last week. Lazy police still hadn't come after him for that one, and probably never would. They were alcoholics too, anyways. They would never cuff a fellow drunkard. That was just bad manners.

After a five minute struggle to put his shoe on the right feet, Jones merrily walked down the block, twirling his flashlight in hand and pointing it at the few people still walking the streets this late at night. Hey, it wasn't his fault they were blinded. That was all on the Yuengling.

With just minutes to spare, he reached his workplace. Jones saw his obnoxious-looking manager standing by the lot gate, looking at him impatiently. He (not t _hey_ , fuck that noise) must have caught the smell of beer on Jones, for he crinkled his nose in disgust. "Please tell me you aren't fucked up right now."

"Just fine," Jones murmured with a drunken chuckle, "Better than fine."

"…Just don't get yourself killed," the manager said, "And pay extra attention to item #77658."

"Number what now?"

He could tell from the eye roll that this manager was probably going to fire him in a few weeks. "The hippie van that came in today. Apparently it's a target for burglars. Cops said it vanished from the impound three times before bringing it to us."

"Impound?"

"Yes. Its previous owner was found dead. It was pretty grisly, they say."

"Huh-urk!" Jones burped out, "That's… that's pretty bad."

The manager waved away they smell of his beer breath and turned to leave. "Just keep an eye on it. Shouldn't be that hard, even with how you are right now…"

"And fuck you too, buddy," Jones grumbled, flipping his boss the bird as he closed the lot gates.

* * *

Jones started his first walk through by using the hoods of vehicles as support to not topple to the ground in intoxication, followed by another go-through where he relieved himself behind a tree. Classy? No. But who was going to see anyways?

The monotony of this job began to set in around 3 PM. Barely able to keep his eyes open at this time, Jones decide to take a small nap. He picked out a flatbed truck, pulling down the tailgate and flopping onto the cold flat surface. As he adjusted himself into a comfortable position, he noticed a certain vehicle parked directly across from the truck. It was the 'cursed' Volkswagen hippie van in all of its rusted glory. Even while drunk, Jones found an odd fascination with it. An urge to find out more came over him.

Sliding out of the flatbed, he approached the van and peered through the front windshield and looked inside. Aside from the Christmas lights, it was fairly empty within. No rugs, no pillows. Just a bunch of rusty furniture.

No, that wasn't right. Furniture can't rust. Then what were all of those dark stains in the seats?

Jones put his face on the windshield as he looked even closer. "The hell… is that blood?"

Suddenly, the Christmas lights flickered, startling Jones into falling backwards. The van's yellow headlights began to light up slowly as a strange sound of shifting metal coming from somewhere inside filed the air.

"Shitass!" Jones shouted, scrambling and failing to get to his feet as the front of the van began tucking into itself and rose from the ground. Two clawed arms emerged from the vehicle's side, one entangled in those damn festive lights. Its side panels becoming shoulder pads and back wheels sprouting talon-bearing feet. Jones was speechless in terror as a robotic head, barring fangs and four small red eyes, emerged from within and glared at him. The robotic… thing let out an ear grating hiss, and then seemed to smirk at his fear.

"Scared, aren't you?" the creature spoke.

Yes, _spoke._ In plain freaking English.

"Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming…!" Jones spat out repeatedly as the van leaned down to his level. It smashed its hand on the pavement, digging its claws into the ground just feet away from the man.

"Nah," it said, "No dream. I am very real."

"Bullshit!" Jones grabbed a chunk of broken pavement and threw it at the creature's face, hitting it in its robot eye. It recoiled at the sudden pain, giving Jones a moment to recollect and run.

"Stupid meatbag!" the creature snarled, flipping over the nearby pickup in frustration as it scanned over the dark car lot for Jones. A large blaster pistol came out of its hip, and the creature cocked the firearm. "To think I was gonna kill you slowly. You had to ruin everything!"

The creature began pacing down the rows of cars, unaware that it had passed right by Jones cowering underneath a black sedan. With so many thoughts and questions of reality going through his mind – not to mention he was still feeling pretty drunk – Jones could only hope that the creature wouldn't notice him making a run for the exit. Once he was home free, then he'd call the cops. And the army. And maybe Kim Jong Un to nuke this fucking thing.

With the sound of footsteps now getting a bit fainter, Jones rolled out from under his cover and dashed across the isle behind a large trailer truck. The creature must have heard his footsteps, and it fired a shot in his general direction. The blast sent a car flying back in flames as it reloaded the blaster. "Can't hide forever, meatbag!"

"Shut up, asshole…!" Jones cursed quietly.

"Correction: his name is _Dreadbot._ Though he can be quite a pain in one's gasket."

Jones nearly pissed himself at the sound of another robotic voice. Before he could scream, a metal hand covered his mouth as a human-sized robot emerged from the darkness beside him. This one looked nowhere near as vicious as the bigger one, but granted was still terrifying for being sentient metal. Jones continued speaking was muffled by this newcomer, who raised a finger in discipline at him.

"Please, be silent," it said, one eye twitching as its finger converted into what looked like a 19th century revolver barrel, "My name is Cogman, and I have no plans of eviscerating you unlike our large adversary over there. Well, unless you attempt to kill me for whatever reason. Then that will change things."

Out of all the first days on the job Jones has had up until this point, this one was easily the most pants-shitting scary of them.


	3. Chapter 3

"Get on out here, human!"

Dreadbot fired another blast into the car lot, causing two more cars to catch flame. The menacing robot had reached the dealership's small sales building, having taken a seat on the roof as he looked around for his prey. Listening for footsteps amongst the crackling of fire, he groaned and crossed his legs as the sound of police sirens filled the air. He saw a squad of incoming cruisers driving to the lot's entrance and took aim. "I ain't got time for this bull!"

The officers in their patrol vehicles had not even a second to realize what they were driving into before their vehicles were sent tumbling from a blaster shot into the center of their formation. Dreadbot fired four more shots, one for each car and didn't miss his mark. "Hm. Having almost more fun with this than hunting you down, fleshbag."

The still-inebriated Jones was sweating profusely as he watched the police cars ignite into infernos. He peered around the side of his cover once more at Dreadbot along with his new companion. Cogman seemed impatient, tapping his foot on the ground and muttering to himself. "Where are you, Arcee? A fine shot to take him out right here…"

"Arcee?" Jones asked, burping, "The hell's an Arcee?"

"Nevermind that for now," Cogman instructed, pointing to the left of Jones, "On the count of three, I want you to run that direction as fast as your fleshy legs can carry you. I will distract Dreadbot for as-

"Hol' up!" Jones hissed, getting spit in the robot's optics, "You aren't ordering me to do shit!"

"Do you wish to die tonight, sir?"

"No, but I ain't listening to an alien hunk of junk I just met!"

"Oh, so you're one of _those_ humans."

"…What are you calling me?!"

"I think the term is mentally retarded. Or perhaps you are just incredibly stupid… Regardless, would you rather try your luck with the Decepticon?"

"…Decepti-what?"

Bloody hell. Cogman was at his limit with this human. Sometimes he wished the Autobot code did not instruct the saving of sentient life, when it was clear such life lacked any sort of intelligence. He held his hand to his audio receptors and activated his com-link. "Arcee? Do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, Cog," a feminine voice replied, "En-route to your position. Give me about two minutes."

"Change of plans, my dear. Find a suitable spot to engage from a distance. Dreadbot has begun attacking civilians again."

"Heh. It's like he wants us to put him down."

"Such are the mentally damaged. Also, I am with a human who is being quite stubborn, so extraction could be difficult-

"A human?! Damn it, Cog! What's a human doing there?"

"A worker, apparently. My initial diagnosis was him being unintelligent, but," Cogman looked at Jones, now heaving his stomach onto the pavement, "His current excretion leads me to believe he is dying or intoxicated."

"For Primus's sake… He hasn't given your position away, has he?"

At that, Jones stumbled to the ground and passed out. The thud of his body was loud enough for Dreadbot to hear, and the Decepticon grinned as he spied the human. "Well, that was easy."

"Oh, dear," Cogman said, watching as Dreadbot casually strolled in their direction cracking his knuckles, "Arcee, I believe the human phrase is 'You just jinxed me'."

"Can you take him?" Arcee replied, her voice becoming static as she accelerated in vehicle mode.

Checking to make sure his revolver hand was loaded, Cogman nodded to himself. "I believe so. If I had my transector, it would be more of a sure thing. I will try and keep him in the open for you. Cogman, out."

With the larger Decepticon right on the other side of their cover, Cogman leapt up on top of the truck as his opponent reached out to grab Jone's prone body. Before the Con could notice his prescience, he took aim and fired at his optics. Cogman's shot was precise, and left Dreadbot clutching his face once more, now half-blind.

" _Yeargh!_ _The scrap?!"_ Dreadbot spun around towards where he was shot from, just as Cogman leapt onto his back. The smaller Autobot began shooting him all over, metal bits flying into the air in all directions. The Decepticon tried to reach and grab him, but Cogman was too nimble to snag. _"Hold still!"_

"How about no?" Cogman retorted, swinging onto his head. Dreadbot's fist came flying at him, but a last-second jump made the Con hit himself instead. Back on solid ground, Cogman hoisted Jone's body over his shoulder and made a run for the exit.

Dreadbot blindly felt around for his gun, but gave up quickly once he spied the small robot dashing away. From his back sprouted a barbed bludgeoning club that he took hold of as he pursued his prey. "Autobot! I'm gonna smash you into pieces!"

Out of the lot and on the streets, Cogman made sure to keep in the shadows as another group of human police drove by towards Dreadbot's location. The Decepticon barreled right through the fence, kicking one of the law vehicles and stabbing the other with his weapon. He could no longer see Cogman and Jones, and let out a roar standing amidst the carnage he had created.

"Damn, you Autobot! _Damn you! Damn-_

A sickening crunch and an intense pain cut Dreadbot off. The Decepticon clutched his chest, now containing a relatively large hole in its center. Red energon fuel leaked from it and soaked his claws as he buckled to his knees. He looked into the darkness of the town, trying to find where he had been shot from, and finally saw a pink-armored figure situated on the top of a human church steeple. They cocked their cross-bolt rifle before aiming at him one last time.

" _AUTOBOT!"_

That was Dreadbot's last word before his cranium exploded from the blue beam courtesy of the Autobot sniper Arce. She watched his lifeless husk crumple on the ground as a human helicopter appeared in the sky with a searchlight. Scaling back down the side of the building, she contacted her companion.

"Cog, it's me. Dreadbot is down, more humans are showing up. Where should I pick you up?"

"Ah, excellent work my dear. I shall send you my exact coordinates. Please, do be quick. The human is letting loose his stomach again…"


End file.
